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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Disasters, Delights and Other Detours - 79. Season's Song and Fond Absence

Two more sonnets for the autumn fire. May they warm your October.

Seasons’s Song

 

As constant as the song of working bees

beneath September's wan yet smiling sun,

not heeding north-set zephyrs in the trees

is love that brooks comparison to none.

Cicadas lazy largos rise and fall

and with the harvest moon soon disappear,

yet pass the autumn frost and chilly squall,

the bumbler's hum returns when skies are clear.

'Tis later when November's silent snow

upon the waiting garden lays its hush,

devotion's changeless blessings you bestow,

enchanting as the song of summer's thrush.

For love does not on calendars depend,

but sings in every season to transcend.

 

 

Fond Absence

 

Some distances are hard to comprehend

for mortal minds make nothing of their size

no matter how the measure’s made to bend,

they can’t conform to what the brain descries.

Across a mighty chasm photons flee

before the twinkling eye can hope to wink,

yet just how wide can synapse spaces be

which let a man consider, muse or think?

And though I understand some thousand miles

Must separate our present-bodied flesh,

Swift prescient thought makes real your laugh and smiles

Enough the weary spirit to refresh.

Connection will all journeys stand bestride;

mere continents cannot true friends divide.


As the season of Thanksgiving approaches, I am mindful of the blessing of friends both near and far.
Copyright © 2017 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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dughlas

dughlas 109,802

Posted (edited)

I find each of these remarkable. The first because I am spending time preparing my yard and gardens for winter for in just over a week I begin the journey to my mum's to spend the winter. I feel somewhat like on to a wayward goose winging south for warmer climes. The second speaks to me for when I am here I am many miles from mum and when I am there with her I am those many miles removed from family and friends here and yet we are but a telephone call away. Thank you for your words.

Edited by dughlas
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Parker Owens
3 hours ago, dughlas said:

I find each of these remarkable. The first because I am spending time preparing my yard and gardens for winter for in just over a week I begin the journey to my mum's to spend the winter. I feel somewhat like on to a wayward goose winging south for warmer climes. The seconds speaks to me for when I am here are am many miles from mum and when I am there with her I am those many miles removed from family and friends here and yet we are but a telephone call away. Thank you for your words.

I'm very grateful for your reading and response to these, especially as you are busy with end-of-season preparations. That you can relate to each of them makes me smile.

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Parker Owens
2 hours ago, northie said:

:heart: Never think it is a one-way relationship. Those of us who are privileged to call you a friend surely get as much from the contact as you do.  And yes, oceans and time differences don't get in the way. 

It is a lovely thing to read the reactions of those brave enough to stomach these sonnets. Your response made me smile broadly at the end of a long day of classes. Times and tides seem not to matter much; I am very grateful for your thoughts and that you read these.

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